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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008176">The Stages of Science</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatingOranges143/pseuds/EatingOranges143'>EatingOranges143</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gardens &amp; Gardening, M/M, Weiss Schnee (mentioned) - Freeform, Whitley is homeschooled, Winter Schnee (mentioned) - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:14:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatingOranges143/pseuds/EatingOranges143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They could have done this in the study like any other time, but there’s something new in the greenhouse today. </p><p>And his name is Oscar. He’s a teenager like Whitley is, but so different. For one, he has the largest eyes he’s ever seen, and they’re two different colors. Which is something Whitley can’t say for himself. His are small and blue. Oscar has freckles, not a lot, can’t be more than 15, but with his naturally rosy cheeks and golden-brown skin, it makes look all sun-kissed and warm, like an open field in summer, free to explore. Which is another thing Oscar has and Whitley doesn’t: Freedom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oscar Pine/Whitley Schnee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Observation & Research</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Despite what Weiss will tell you, Whitley had plenty of access to television with plenty of attractive people. And Whitley wasn’t here to deny any part of himself when it was frustrating or unusual. Denial led to ignorance, and ignorance led to inaccuracy, and inaccuracy led to failure. So yes, Whitley was a bisexual and that was that.</p><p>   He’s not allowed outside, thanks to Winter and Weiss, his two older sisters who fled the house as soon as they possibly could, but he is allowed in the greenhouse when Klein is there to watch him.</p><p>   This is where he finds himself now, putting down his homework on the stained glass accent table. It’s about linear inequalities, a perfectly normal thing for someone Whitley’s age to study.</p><p>   Klein sits on a nearby bench, watching Whitley, ready to check his work when he finishes his worksheet.</p><p>   They could have done this in the study like any other time, but there’s something new in the greenhouse today.</p><p>   And his name is Oscar. He’s a teenager like Whitley is, but so different. For one, he has the largest eyes he’s ever seen, and they’re two different colors. Which is something Whitley can’t say for himself. His are small and blue. Oscar has freckles, not a lot, can’t be more than 15, but with his naturally rosy cheeks and golden-brown skin, it makes look all sun-kissed and warm, like an open field in summer, free to explore. Which is another thing Oscar has and Whitley doesn’t: Freedom.</p><p>   Oscar is free to leave, whenever he wants. He’s technically a volunteer gardener, not an official employee like Klein is, so he’s allowed to work as a teenager and get paid pocket change by Father. Father’s always liked people who love to work for the sake of it. Oscar doesn’t look like it bothers him. Like he’s happy to tend to the dozens of flowers that Whitley is sure that his mother cares more about than himself, and get paid very little for it.</p><p>   Whitley isn’t sure how he feels about that.</p><p>   But regardless, Oscar gets to stay. Which that, is fine by Whitley.</p><p>   The afternoon comes to a close, with Whitley’s worksheets filled with graphs all completed. Klein says that he only got two wrong, something about equal signs, and Whitley feels a sting of disappointment with that, but he sucks it up and starts packing his bag.</p><p>   He and Oscar had made eye contact a couple of times, where Oscar would stare for a beat, then smile and wave, which was charming, albeit a bit awkward.</p><p>   Whitley finishes packing his bag as he and Klein give a small wave as they exit, making their way back to the estate.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hypothesis & Experiment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   It continues every Tuesday, afternoon till dusk, awkward smiles and waves, and worksheets filled with x’s and o’s. </p><p>   Eventually, smiles and waves turn into small greetings and goodbyes, and those turn into small snippets of conversion. </p><p>   Suddenly, Whitley is learning all sorts of things about Oscar. Like how his least favorite flowers are roses. </p><p>   “They require all sorts of soil, they easily get diseased, and then those diseases spread to other flowers, and they always outgrow any space you place them in.” Oscar confides in him one day, on his knees fumbling with a stubborn rose bush. </p><p>   Or that he finds blazers hot. </p><p>   “Did you see Scarlet David in the Vytal Festival last week? Who gave him the right to be that hot?” Oscar excitedly asks, a little exasperated while repotting some petunias. </p><p>   Whitley indeed saw him. He always watches the Vytal festival, ever since Winter competed for the first time. Weiss did surprisingly well, he’s never seen her compete with a team before, and it seems like that’s where her talent lies. </p><p>   He doesn’t say that yet. Talking about family has always been hard. </p><p>   “I didn’t know you were into pirates.” The<em> or guys </em>goes unsaid. </p><p>   “I didn’t think I was, but what can I say? I’ve always been into blazers.” Oscars says, letting out a chuckle. </p><p>   Whitley rolls his eyes and snorts as he goes to figure out the slope of his graph. </p><p>   Or that he’s named after a species of fish. </p><p>   “Fish? Really?” Whitley asks as he’s watching him take out the hose from behind. </p><p>   “Yeah. Like the subspecies.” </p><p>   “So you’re literally named after a fish and a tree?” </p><p>   “A lot coming from you, Mr. White Meadow-Snow.” He says, finally successfully untangling the hose and beginning to turn it on. </p><p>   “Touche,” Whitley says back. </p><p>   They both laugh. </p><p>   Whitley wonders if Oscar is learning all sorts of things about him too. It’s a bit frightening, never had someone so close to him before. It’s nice, and Whitley smiles at the fantasy of being more. </p><p>   The linear equality worksheets are long gone, now being replaced with systems of equation ones, which Whitley understands much more. </p><p>   Oscar comes up to him today, as Whitley is taking off his messenger bag and placing it on the table. </p><p>   “Whitley! Am I glad to see you.” </p><p><em>    You see me every Tuesday, why are you acting so surprised?; </em> Whitley wants to say but decides against it. He smiles regardless. </p><p>   “Oscar. I trust you’ve been well.”</p><p>   “I have. Hey, by any chance do you know where the watering can is?” </p><p>   He does know, actually. He saw it near the entrance, next to the shovels. </p><p>   “I do, do you want me to take you there?” He asks. </p><p>   “That would be nice!” </p><p>   Together they walk towards the entrance, Whitley admiring the way that the light refracts when it comes through the glass, making soft rainbows on the floors and walls. Oscar finds the water can, exactly where Whitley had thought. He thanks him and they sit there for an awkward beat as Oscar looks like he wants to say something. </p><p>   Whitley expects him to go on a rant about the <em>most beautiful flower he saw last Thursday </em>or maybe about the <em>cutest pair of birds he saw in the park</em>. Instead, he asks; </p><p>   “Can I have your number?”</p><p>   Whitley blinks and takes some time to process that. </p><p>   “It’s just that,” he pauses then continues, “I want to talk to you more, and sometimes it can’t wait ‘till the next Tuesday.” </p><p>   “Of course. Let me go and get my scroll.” He turns around and starts briskly walking back to the table. It’s in his bag, the second pocket to the left, as always. He takes it out and unlocks it as he makes his way back. He hasn’t memorized his number, never having someone to give it to, but it’s written in a notes app.  </p><p>   “You got your scroll?” Oscar asks, shaking his scroll with his left hand. </p><p>   “Yes. Are you ready to hear it?” Whitley asks before listing off the numbers, as Oscar frantically tries to type it into his contacts. When he’s done, he shows it to Whitley, his contact listed as “Snow White” with a snowflake and apple emoji.   </p><p>   Whitley raises an eyebrow. </p><p>   “Get it? Like snow? Schnee?” </p><p>   Whitley snickers as he walks back once more Oscar following behind, “I mean sure, but there are plenty of snow-related puns that are better than that.”  </p><p>   “Yeah, but you’re also the fairest of all! So it’s a double pun.” Oscars says, deleting the contact name and putting a simple “whitley”. </p><p>   Whitley immediately turns his head, heat rushing to his cheeks, confused, wondering if that came out right. </p><p>   “Get it?” Oscar says as if the answer is obvious. He dramatically sighs, “It’s a pale joke! Because you're white as a sheet.” </p><p>   Whitley snorts, as Oscar turns right saying something about actually doing the work he’s here for. </p><p>   He sits down and starts simplifying some equations, glancing at Oscar every so often, then to his scroll. Okay, maybe he<em> does</em> want this to be more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Roses are actually quite easy to grow, but I like the idea of Oscar being very frustrated with such a classic flower.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Collect Data</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Eating breakfast in the morning isn't unpleasant per say, but it’s not Whitley’s favorite thing to do. The eating part is fine, it’s good food, but there’s something about the tall ceilings, the huge windows and the dead silence that puts Whitley at unease. For a while, he would wake up early and catch Klein rolling out the dough, or cracking an egg. Sometimes, he would even help. Perhaps reshape the bread to look like a cat, like the ones in Anima.  It was a nice distraction from the cold morning. </p><p>   But that was a long time ago, and now his day starts at the table waiting silently. He’s used to it now, and finds some sort of strange comfort from it. At least it’s consistent, and leaves him to think. </p><p>   What’s new is Oscar texting him every few days. It starts simple, with easy conversations that feel practiced, and never go anywhere. </p><p>   Like this morning, where this transaction took place: </p><p>--- </p><p>Oscar: Whitley! how r you? </p><p>Well. Klein’s made croissants :Whitley</p><p>Oscar: are they crumb-y? </p><p>Not really, Klein makes them really tender :Whitley </p><p>I think I saw him put a like a stick of butter in it once :Whitley</p><p>Oscar: ajkdjs;ljfda</p><p>Oscar: No</p><p>Oscar: like crummy, but like crumb</p><p>Oscar: cuz its bread</p><p>Ah :Whitley</p><p>That’s horrible :Whitley</p><p>---</p><p>   It’s strange, like Oscar knows that the conversations aren’t meaningful, but he stays vigilant to keep starting them. </p><p>   Whitley doesn’t mind though, it’s nice having someone to tell meaningless details about his life. Ones that Klein already knows, and Father doesn’t care for. </p><p>   Over the couple of weeks, four minute texts conversations turn into light-hearted chats about their shared experiences watching Pumpkin Pete as children, or funny stories about Oscar’s aunt.<br/>
<br/>
   And slowly, funny stories about Wiess and Winter.  </p><p>   Then they turn into calls. </p><p>   In the morning, Oscar airly talks about all the chores he has to do, while Whitley listens and starts morning routines, humming and giving non-committal agreements. In the afternoon, Whitley vents about the lost puzzle pieces that he can’t seem to find, while Oscar cleans his bedroom, dropping in suggestions on where he might find them. </p><p>   As talking on the phone gets easier and easier, so does talking when Oscar’s in the greenhouse. </p><p>   Whitley still has to finish his homework from the day, but simply having light conversations while he does is a wonderful experience. Oscar’s quite good at English, or a least good enough to answer when Whitley asks how to spell certain words.  </p><p>   Oscar starts waiting later and later, even after he’s done with tending with the garden. </p><p>   Eventually, it’s winter.<br/>
   Contrary to popular belief,  Altas during the winter isn't a picturesque snowing wonderland. It’s filled with storms. </p><p>   Like right now. </p><p>   Rain pounds against the greenhouse’s huge windows, the wind rushes through the trees outside. Thunder booms every couple of minutes, and the sky is dark. </p><p>   “Oscar, please don’t tell me you plan on leaving and going outside, wearing that.” Whitley asks, siping his hot chocolate. He places it on the table, making a <em> clink! </em> as ceramic meets glass. He looks at him, wearing a loose sweater and a thin coat. </p><p>   “I mean, I <em> could </em>tell you. I’d be lying though.” Oscar says sitting on the other side of the table. He reaches for his scroll, looking through it for a second. “Damn it, the trains closed.” He says.</p><p>   “Do you have an umbrella?”</p><p>   Whitley looks at him like he’s insane. </p><p>   “You’re going to try and <em> walk </em> home?” </p><p>   “No, Whitley, I can teleport.” He says, voice dripping in sarcasm. </p><p>   “I’ll ask Klein if you can stay the night,” Whitley says, getting out of his chair and pushing it under the table. “Now drink your hot chocolate, before it gets cold.” </p><p>   “Aren’t we a little old for hot chocolate?” Oscars asks, taking a sip. </p><p>   “Hush. No one is too old for chocolate.” Whitley jokingly scolds. </p><p>   “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” Oscar laughs softly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>do yourself a favor and go to the rwby wiki food section, then go to grains and look at the cat breads</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Analysis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After Oscar finishes his hot chocolate and Whitely introduces him inside, he </span>
  <span>decides that, no, Whitley was not kidding when he said that his house was lonely. It’s so unbelievably </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The halls are wide and tall and bland and their family crest is slapped on everything. The walls are covered with huge abstract meaningless paintings of, like, a billion landscapes and oceans, and apparently, if you have a single table or chair fill a hallway every so often that counts as decor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He admires it a little though. It’s classy and elegant and looks like it’s straight out of a magazine. Like everything is perfectly custom made, from the carpet to the paintings.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it just doesn’t feel right. It’s cold, he physically could feel the freezing air brush past his ankles. As he hears the crisp sounds of his feet hitting the floor, he turns to the right and opens one of the guest bedrooms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whitley had given him very specific instructions, to “start down the hall, turn left, then move toward the offices- you’ll know they’re the offices if they have the Fleur de Lis above them.” (Oscar admittedly had to ask what those are, and Whitley explained that they kinda look like the Vacuo emblem, but fancy.) “then move forward until you see the family portrait and turn right. You’ll see a couple of doors, you may use the second one. You’ll find a spare bedroom we have, go ahead and get comfortable.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, without getting lost, he found his way to a spare bedroom. Opening the door, it’s really bare for such an extravagant house. It was definitely bigger than his one home, but it barely had anything in it. A glass desk that was too small to do anything with, a bed (Oscar thinks it’s a full-sized bed?) with cool grey sheets, a bookshelf with unlabeled books. Walking in, he closes the door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After texting his aunt that he’s staying the night, he sets his bag on the glass table near the entrance, moves toward the bookshelf at the back, and picks a book. It has the Schnee family crest stamped on the spine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He walks toward the bed, unlaces his boots, and opens the book. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A while later, Whitley comes knocking on the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he knocks then opens it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What even is the point of knocking if you are going to open the door any</span>
  </em>
  <span>- </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar? Klein’s finished making dinner. Are you alright with coming down?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I dropped writing this fic a little bit ago- but I found this passage that I hadn't posted yet. I thought it would probably be better to post it than to let it just sit in a word doc forever</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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